


chai.

by hellaskye



Category: NCIS
Genre: A dog dies tw for that, Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: ncis_verse, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ziva's life is not an easy one my friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellaskye/pseuds/hellaskye
Summary: "this is a story of life and death and life again. this is a story of joy and pain, of light and dark, of self-preservation; a story of survival."or.Ziva's life in milestones.





	1. part i.

**Author's Note:**

> chai is the Hebrew word for "life" or "living", so that's where that comes from. this is a story in two parts! before, and after, so to speak. as always, remember to comment !

this is a story of life and death and life again. this is a story of joy and pain, of light and dark, of self-preservation; a story of survival.

 

this is the story of ziva david.

 

* * *

 

  
Ziva is barely five the first time she experiences death. Her beloved dog, Kel, has been Ziva’s best companion, save only for her older brother, Ari. Ari is much older than she is, and this year he left to learn to be a doctor in Scotland. Kel is still with Ziva all the time. _Abba_ bought Kel for Ziva when her little sister, Tali, was born, since Ari would soon be leaving. Ziva was only two then, so it feels like Kel has been her best friend for her whole life. Kel follows Ziva to school and waits for her until the afternoon and walks home with her. Ziva thinks she might love Kel even more than she loves Tali. Except one day, she gets out of school, and Kel isn’t there waiting for her. Ziva wanders around the market for an hour and a half asking all of the merchants if they’ve seen her. The stall owners know her well; David’s inquisitive daughter. Most of them like her, and tell her sadly that no, they have not seen the little mutt that follows the girl around so loyally.

Eventually, Eli realizes that his eldest daughter has not come home, and when Ziva tells him, tears brimming in her eyes, that Kel had not been waiting for her after school, Eli knows that something has happened. He drives with Ziva until they find a man on the edge of the market that says that yes, he saw a dog matching that description. He points to a cardboard box, at the edge of his stall. Ziva can just see a paw hanging limply out of it. The man tells them that a small band of troublemakers had been approaching the market - sometimes bandits or insurgents would come through Be’er Sheva - and that Kel had run past, fast as the wind, and fought them off before they could get anywhere near the school or market stalls. She’d been knifed for his troubles. Eli’s face grows solemn and he tells his little girl that Kel was brave, like a David should be, and died a hero’s death. Ziva sobs still.

The bring the box back to the house among the olive trees, and they bury Kel beneath the biggest tree, where Kel would sit for hours as Ziva practiced her pirouettes, and her chaines turns, and her chasses. Eli lets Ziva cry until Kel is buried, and then he tells her, gently but firmly, that Davids are strong. Davids do not cry.

So Ziva wipes her tears, and Eli offers to help her find another dog, but Ziva refuses. Because she knows, as much as a five year old can, that life expectancy for _any_ living thing is short in Be’er Sheva, and if she is not supposed to cry, she cannot feel pain like this again.

 

No one tells her that the pain will come again and again, but the tears stop coming eventually.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is eight when Shmuel Rubenstein confesses that he loves her. They are in third grade, and Ziva thinks she has only talked to Shmuel like four times all year. Mostly, Ziva spends her days with Hamid, her best friend, even though the other kids don’t like him much.

Still, he tells her that he likes her and that she’s pretty, and before Ziva can think, she’s punched him in the face. She has not trained with her father, learned how to pull both herself and her six-year-old sister out of the woods of Be’er Sheva, studied until she received top marks in her classes, and learned how to kickbox so that Shmuel could call her _pretty_. Besides, this is one scenario Ziva has not trained for, and what she knows is ‘when in doubt, punch’. So she did. And Shmuel hits back. And then they are all out brawling, and then Ziva is sitting in the headmasters office, while her _Imma_ talks in rapid Hebrew with the headmaster, and her father tries not to smile.

 

Ziva is suspended for three days, and _Imma_ is furious, and tells her she’s grounded. But late that night, after everyone else is asleep, her _Abba_ sneaks into her room with an ice cream cone, and whispers that he’s proud of her for winning her first fight.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twelve when she loses her best friend. She is hard at work - she has schoolwork to complete, and then she wants to make it to ballet early enough so that she can get home in time to do some training with her _Abba._ Eli has been training her to work like he does for years now, and even though Ziva thinks she’d like to be a ballerina, she’s starting to realize that is the dream of an eight year old. She is twelve now, and _Abba_ has made it clear that he expects Ziva to follow in his footsteps. She feels like she must. She is the only one who will, likely. Ari and her father fight daily, and well, Tali is clearly not cut out for this life. _Abba_ used to send Tali into the woods with Ziva, but eventually it was clear that it was just Ziva getting them both out, and Tali not being much help at all. Tali wants to be an opera singer, and Ziva thinks that maybe, even though she’s only ten, Tali will actually get to be an opera singer one day. Tali is the youngest, and by far the softest, of the Davids, and everyone works to keep her life rosy, to keep the young girl bubbly. Tali’s boundless optimism is a light in the darkness of their lives.

Ziva is midway through her ballet class, (she’s almost ready to go _en pointe_ and Ziva’s been working hard), when her _Imma_ pokes her head in the studio and apologetically tells _Madame Renee_ that she must take Ziva early. Ziva is about to protest, but she sees the look on her mother’s face, and stays quiet. She hasn’t seen _Imma_ look this upset, not even when Ziva was nine, and Rivka told her that they were leaving Be’er Sheva to go live in Tel Aviv, without her _Abba_. They’ve been back in Be’er Sheva for six months, but Ziva still hears the two of them arguing every night, even on the Sabbath, which is not allowed. But _Imma_ looks even more upset than she did then, and on the way home, she asks Ziva where Hamid is right now. Hamid lives with his family, a few miles up the road from the Davids, and Hamid and Ziva are best friends. Hamid’s family is from Palestine, originally, and they are Arabic Muslims, but even Eli calls them good people, and Ziva and Hamid have big plans. One day they’re going to go to America, and see the big statue of the woman, and the golden bridge. Hamid wants to be a doctor.

Ziva dutifully tells her mother that Hamid and his _Imma_ had gone back to Palestine for the week, for his _Savta_ ’s birthday. Ziva doesn’t have a _Savta_ or a _Saba_ ; both of her parent’s parents were dead long before Ziva was ever born. When Ziva tells her _Imma_ , her knuckles grip the truck’s steering wheel tighter and she asks where Hamid and his mother are staying. Ziva knows the answer to that, because Hamid had been bragging all week that he and his mother were staying in a _hotel,_ and Ziva had been jealous.

They arrive home, and they walk into their home, and Ziva finds that Hamid’s father and younger sister, Aliyah, are sitting inside. Aliyah is only five, and she is asleep on the couch. Her _Imma_ sits her and Tali there, too. Briefly, her parents discuss, more united than Ziva has seen them since she was old enough to go to school. Rivka tells Eli what Ziva has informed her, and his face grows grave. He tells the small group gathered in front of him that there has been another missile strike, on a hotel in Palestine. Hamid’s father understands immediately. It takes Ziva a little bit longer to understand that her best friend is gone, and it is her homeland’s fault.

Eli tells them that the news will break tomorrow morning, but that he heard from work, and knew that he had to tell them. Hamid’s father thanks him, face stoic, then turns to Ziva and hugs her. He thanks her for bringing joy to Hamid’s life. He tells her that she meant everything to Hamid, in a country often unkind to people of his faith and culture. Ziva just stands there, numb. Hamid’s father smiles sadly, face lined with understanding, and he takes his daughter, clings to her tightly as he returns to his own home. Their family is just now them, just father and daughter, and Ziva can’t imagine what her life would be if she didn’t have her sister, didn’t have her brother, didn’t have _Imma_.

 

She can’t imagine a life exists where she and her _Abba_ are the last ones standing.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is sixteen when she gets her first car. Technically, it is a _shared_ car for her and Tali, (and Ari, but Ari never visits anymore. He works at a center in Edinburgh, and Ziva’s heard her father say that he’s been talking about going to Gaza, where his mother lives, and working in a camp there), but Tali can’t drive, and so it’s _Ziva’s_ car. At least, for now. It’s an old, used car, but Ziva loves it. Her mother teaches her how to drive, how to zoom past cars that are going suspiciously slow, how to weave away from foreign objects on the side of the road that might hold an explosive. It would surprise some that Rivka knows these things. Ziva is known for being tough and invincible. Rivka’s strength is hidden away. But she is the single mother of two teenage girls, in a dangerous time in Israel. Her ex-husband of three years packed his stuff and moved to Tel Aviv to be closer to work, before the divorce was even complete, and she has to keep herself, and her girls, safe. So she buys Ziva a car, and teaches her to drive and survive the roads, and starts to rely on Ziva to keep the household running. To take her sister to school and singing lessons. To buy groceries. To know how to pack up and take her sister far away, if anyone were ever to come after them.

For Tali, the car means boys. Not necessarily for her - at thirteen, Tali is a little boy crazy, but still young. But her older sister is the town beauty, and now she has a _car_. There is something about how unattainable and tough Ziva is that makes boys want her, Tali tells her. Ziva doesn’t know how to tell her innocent younger sister that Ziva is learning how to use that against the men that chase her down. _Abba_ always taught her to use every weapon in her arsenal, and if her looks make men vulnerable, she’ll use it.

 

For Ziva, the car means visiting her father on the weekends. She never tells her mother, but those ‘visits’ become training sessions, and the training sessions become unofficial missions. Mossad is in her blood, after all.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is eighteen when the world falls out from under her. She is three months into her service to her country. _Tzahal_ \- the Israeli Defense Force - is easy after a whole life of training for Mossad, but Ziva misses her family. She misses her mother, her brother and her father, but most of all, Ziva misses her little sister. Tali is only sixteen, but she’s the best person Ziva knows. Her laughter is like light itself, and when she sings the opera songs she loves so much, even Eli David goes soft. Tali is all softness and no defense, and Ziva goes to defend her country so that girls like Tali can live in peace. So that Tali’s eyes can stay bright forever. Tali and Ziva have been two sides of the same coin since Tali was born. Ziva would go to the end of the earth for her baby sister.

Before Ziva left, Tali was just becoming a woman. Arguing with their parents about boys, and movies. Tali turned fourteen and suddenly thought she’d grown up. She wanted to go to the movies with cute boys and wanted to drive in their fast cars, and wear make-up, and go on dates. She didn’t want Rivka to drop her off. She wanted to be a grown woman.

Tali often calls Ziva, now that Ziva is in the IDF. Ziva warns her that life is much different, now that she’s not at home. That moving out is not all that it seemed it would be. Ziva missed her room, next to Tali’s, with the cork board of all her favorite pictures, and letters, and photographs, and her comfortable bed, and her _Imma_ ’s food. She would give anything to let Tali stay young forever. She calls Ziva about a singing program she got into.

“-and it’s all the way in Paris. Ziv, I could live in _Paris._ And Abba said that if Imma said yes, I can go!”

“That sounds lovely, Tali,” Ziva says, voice warm. Just speaking to her sister eases the tension that grows in her chest. Tali has a way of making the world beautiful. “Did _Imma_ say yes?”

“ _Imma_ said she’d ‘ _think about it’_ which is basically a yes, it just means I have to stay on her good side until she _officially_ says yes,” Tali explains. “And since I broke up with Adam, I don’t have a reason to fight with her, so I should be fine.”

“What happened with Adam?” Ziva asks, frowning. Tali generally didn’t court a boy for longer than three months, but Ziva had thought that Tali had really fallen for Adam. “I liked him.”

“He stopped paying attention to me. I started worrying that he wasn’t going to stay faithful, and I don’t want to deal with that,” Tali sighed dramatically. “Besides, I’m leaving for Haifa next week anyways, so I wouldn’t see him all summer, and if I end up going to this opera school in Paris…”

“I thought you guys were supposed to leave for Haifa this week?” Ziva asks. They went to Haifa every summer. It was their tradition. Even through their parents separation, reconcilement, and divorce, they went to Haifa for the summer. Sometimes it was just the girls, going up to stay with some friends, sometimes one or both of their parents went with them. When they were _very_ young, Ari went with them. But they always left the first week of summer. “I thought _Imma_ said she already left?”

“Oh, she did,” Tali agreed cheerfully. _Too_ cheerfully, in Ziva’s opinion. “Since I’m sixteen, I made the case that I was old enough to travel on my own this year. We would go, just the two of us, when you were what, ten? I can handle the train on my own. I had another week of singing lessons, but _Imma_ wanted to go at the usual time. And since _Abba_ lives in Tel Aviv, barely an hour away…”

“I can’t believe she allowed it,” Ziva chuckled. Tali had always gotten away with more than her older siblings, but this, this was a truly impressive feat.

“It’s because it’s _Imma_. If I’d asked _Abba_ he would’ve said no in a heartbeat. You’re _his_ favorite.”

“And you’re _Imma’_ s,” Ziva countered, grinning. Off to her left, one of her commanding officers barked that social hours we’re ending. Ziva sighed. “I have to go, _tateleh_.”

“Already? That went by so fast,” Tali whined. “I miss you, Ziv. When do you come home?”

“Sixteen months, Tals,” Ziva reminded her. She had yet to tell her sister that she was planning on moving to Tel Aviv, to work with their father. She’d cross that bridge when it came. “But I miss you too. Everyday. Congratulations on your singing program, _motek_. You’re gonna be a star.”

“ _Todah_ ,” Tali said, pausing before she continued. “ _Ani ohevet ot'cha, akhoti._ ”

“ _Ani ohevet ot'cha_ ,” Ziva whispered back, throat tight as she hung up the phone. Her eyes burned, but she blinked it back. _Davids do not cry_. She’ll see her sister soon enough.

 

Twelve hours later, Ziva is pulled from her morning exercise to receive a phone call from her father. He starts it with “ _Motek,_ I am so sorry,” and that is how Ziva knows something is wrong.


	2. part ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ziva's time at ncis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit. it turned into a three parter and part two got long. 
> 
> ziva had a lot to say about her seven years at ncis. the end is much shorter than this. 
> 
> all mistakes are because it is two am and im delirious. feel free to point them out and I'll fix them. 
> 
> enjoy!

Ziva is twenty two when she catches Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo having phone sex. She has been chasing her brother; Ari has been acting erratically since he went undercover with the terrorist cell, and _Abba_ keeps insisting it is part of his cover, but Ziva thinks Eli is trying to convince himself as much as his daughter. Tony is…different than other US Agents she’s worked with. The whole team is rather different, actually. It’s clear they care very deeply about each other, and how hard they are taking the loss of their agent. Ziva is caught off guard by how strongly she wants to be a part of a unit. Their unit. She has been, _officially_ , working for Mossad for three and a half years now, and the Kidon unit is the tightest group she’s ever been in, but all ties are strictly professional. Mostly. There are a few in-agency flings here and there, but feelings are never involved. Ziva feels things so deeply, and she isn’t sure how to deal with it. But these people, they feel and they grieve for one of their own. And they _think_. They ask why. Ziva is intrigued. 

She is glad to see Jenny again. It’s been only six months since the last time she saw her, but Agent - now Director - Shepherd is a good woman, and a better agent. She might even be something resembling a friend. Ziva saved her life once, and the woman has watched her back since. Ziva can respect that. And sure enough, Jenny Shepherd stands with her now and asks Agent Gibbs to give her, at least, a chance. Gibbs puts a tail on her anyways. Ziva can respect that too.

She brings Agent Dinozzo coffee, and steals a slice of his pizza, and enjoys the way that he clearly cannot figure out how to deal with her. She surprises the both of them by telling him about Tali. She has not spoken about her sister since she lost her in a marketplace in their hometown, when Ziva was too far away to save her. Her grief, though now five years old, is still fresh. It stings her eyes, but she pushes it down. _Davids do not cry_.

The next day, she returns to the NCIS office and spends the day trying again and again to convince Gibbs’s team of Ari’s innocence. She finds herself using the same arguments her father brought up to her when she became Ari’s control officer. It irks her, how certain Gibbs is that his _gut_ is correct. Where she is from, a hunch is worthless without evidence. But he is willing to _kill_ her brother, on the ‘gut feeling’ that Ari is no longer just undercover. Ziva is two seconds from giving up on calling Gibbs off and going to help Ari get away instead. She’s already given him an escape route. They’ve agreed to meet in Paris. But a small voice in her head, one that’s come to take the light, sweet tone of Tali’s voice reminds her that she, herself, had these same doubts not long ago. Gibbs, for all that he frustrates her, fascinates her. He’s willing to leave his life in her hands, to prove her right. And the sweet voice that has taken root in Ziva’s mind since she lost the real life girl whispers: _trust your instinct when it tells you to trust this man._

So, Ziva does. And he is right. And Ziva has to kill her only brother. And in the milliseconds, as she pulls the trigger, she remembers the summers in Haifa, when Ari would take her on adventures around the city and buy his sisters food and sugary sodas that their mother disapproved of her children consuming. She remembers that Ari was the first person who taught her how to fight, how he beat up Ilan Bodnar when he was bullying Ziva when they were kids, and how he used to chase Ziva, with Tali on his back, all three of them laughing and giggling, out of breath.

She thinks about what Ari has said. What her father has done. How Ari lost his sister and his mother in the same three months, two different war casualties. She, too, has lost her mother in the short time since she lost her sister, and now she too will lose her brother. Not for the first time, she wonders if she is cursed. Has some sort of ‘death touch’; a warped Midas Touch that leaves everyone she touches in caskets. And yet - all of this has left her bitter and broken, but not vengeful. She was, perhaps, after Tali’s death. She wanted blood. She wanted revenge. But after all of the _Hamas_ terrorists she’s killed, the blood she’s spilt; none of it brought sweet Tali back to her. And never once did she decide to turn on their father, to punish _him_ for the misfortune of her childhood. Never _once_ did she consider turning into a terrorist.

 

And so, Ziva pulls the trigger. And Gibbs finds out that Ari was her big brother and his face contorts for a millisecond and he squeezes her hand on his way to give her privacy, and as she sits to murmur the _kaddish_ over Ari’s body, and she thinks that maybe, she has earned his respect. Maybe even his trust.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twenty three when she is accused of terrorism and treason and she is suddenly alone. The summer was a blur of cases and Tony and wine in summer heat and old movies and being too sticky to care about being modestly clothed. She has spent the last three months putting a shattered Tony DiNozzo together (and hoping that somehow the process would put her world back together too), and then he is in Germany and she is being set up.

Mossad reveals that they do not trust her as much as she thought they did, and she realizes she doesn’t trust them nearly as much as she used to. She fights her way out and runs, equal parts exhilarated and terrified of the person she has become in three short months at NCIS. Someone soft, maybe. But, suddenly, the world that she has been so carefully crafting since Gibbs abandoned them is as dangerous and frightening as she’s been pretending it isn’t. And Tony is a brand new Team Leader, and she has spent an entire summer soothing his worries of failing Gibbs and failing his new team, and she refuses to jeopardize his job with her issues so she turns to the only person she knows to turn to.

She goes to Gibbs’s house because that is the safest place she knows, and she calls Abby, and a detached part of her is strangely gratified that Abby _cares_. She hates that she has to cut short the worrying, but she gets the numbers she was looking for. Ziva _breathes_ when Gibbs answers, and when he asks her what she wants him to do from Mexico, she feels so helpless that she has to remind herself: _Davids do not cry._ As she admits she doesn’t know, however, she can’t force back the tears that trail down her face. He calls her Ziver and tells her he’ll be there and Ziva begins crying in earnest, hanging up the phone with a hurried ‘thank you’. She thinks he knows. 

He shows up on the next flight out with a _beard_ and it’s not how she remembers him, but he came to save her and it’s not the time to harass him about his facial hair preferences. Her burner phone rings and Ziva nearly shoots it, but it’s Tony’s number. (she’s not sure when she memorized it). She ignores the heavy sigh that comes with his words: _we love you, too_. He is speaking for the group, that is all. While they wait for Tony, she catches Gibbs up. He is just as pragmatic as she had hoped, and when Tony finally arrives, they tell her she’s been set up and she feels all of twelve years old. It’s the most basic trick in the book, one that her own father probably taught Eschel. She tries to tell Tony that he can’t be involved, and he shuts her down, and they have a staring contest that only three months of late nights can decipher. _Let me help you_ , and _don’t throw away your career for me_ and _I have your six whether you want me to or not._ He wins, and Ziva wants to strangle and hug him in equal measure.

Eschel plays his games, and Ziva realizes that he is not just trying to set her up, but kill her. She is a _loose end_ and she is _disposable_ and it frightens her in a way it shouldn’t. She has never been anything but the most valuable of assets. Ziva tries to hide it, but as she leads them out of the house and to the car just seconds before the FBI shows up, she thinks Gibbs might know her fear from the scared-rabbit-like crouch she can’t seem to straighten out of and the way her hands shake. He sends her back to his house and tells her to _wait_. The waiting drives her insane. The only thing she knows to do is _fight,_ so when Gibbs finally calls, she can’t wait any longer and so she drives to the motel and _thinks_ and plans.

There is an Iranian woman waiting for her, and as Ziva takes a beating, the woman taunts her. _Soft. Soft. Soft_. But she takes it and takes it and waits for the woman to slip and _finally_ she admits to being VEVAK, and Ziva revels in being able to _stop_ pretending to lose and _actually_ beat her down. She takes greater pleasure in throwing the tape recorder she taped to her stomach at Tony, and even more pleasure in the flicker of pride in Gibbs’s eyes.

 

And when she shows up at Tony’s that night, she doesn’t tell him that it took her longer than usual because she had to make sure she’d shaken whatever tail Mossad had sent. Instead, she lets him fuss over her face and tells him, with one of their silent conversations: _thank you thank you thank you._

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twenty four when Tony dies.

Jenny tells them that his new girl is a mark, and Tony’s in trouble, and her first thought it _i lost him for a mark?_ and her second thought was _i knew it_. She only says the second one aloud. After months of telling Gibbs and McGee and even Tony that she felt something was off with him, it gives her fleeting satisfaction to be right. Her instincts were once again correct, and if she wasn’t so worried, she’d gloat. Especially since they all dismissed her, told her she was worrying too much. They find him, and then they watch as his car goes up in flames. Ziva can’t stop his name as it slips from her lips. The car ride to the scene is so silent that it suffocates her and her hands won’t stop shaking. It is his car, the car that drove her to spontaneous weekends spent hunting for antique knives or going to old films. There is a mangled body behind the wheel, and she can’t look away. Her eyes burn. _Davids do not cry._

It feels like losing air and it scares Ziva, how much she cares, so she tells herself “ _Stop caring. He is dead_ ’. The rest of them can hope with their excessive optimism. Hope is a luxury Ziva can’t afford. Not when it hurts like this. She thinks of movie nights and delirious laughter and deep conversations that caught both of them off guard. She feels a pang of regret that she didn’t fight to hold on to those rare glimpses of who Tony was. She stopped seeing that part of him when he started seeing his new girlfriend, (new _mark_ ), and it feels like she lost a friend when she lost those nights. She thinks of _oh god, do you think we’re becoming our parents,_ and j _eez Ziva, that was an entire bottle of vodka,_ and _i would bet you a whole new bottle of vodka that you won’t drive out to Rock Creek and stargaze with me right now_ , and then she tells herself she has allowed herself too much time, for grief. He is dead, and she cannot hope or it will consume her. McGee tries to convince her that it could be someone else, and Ziva can’t even look at him as she shows him the NCIS badge she has found under his seat. _Davids do not cry_.

She tells herself it is the same as it would be losing any of them. McGee, or Abby, or Ducky, or Gibbs. Oh god, Gibbs. And she believes it, with just the slightest flicker of doubt as she rubs her finger over the mutilated badge in her hand. She has gone to concerts and dinners with Abby, let McGee teach her video games with physics that don’t quite seem right. She has confided to Ducky things that surprise the both of them, and she has come to trust Gibbs in a way that she trusts no one else. Losing any of them would leave a hole in her. She didn’t mean to give them that power. She doesn’t think they know that they have it.

Ducky, sweet Ducky, gives her a _reason_ to hope. McGee looks at her, all beaming grins and hopeful eyes and Ziva lets herself return the look. They don’t know where he is, but he is _alive_ , and that, she can work with. And then _he walks in_ , as they’re questioning Kort by the elevators. He is, as Ziva predicted, all morbid humor and not-taking-it-seriously, and when Kort tries to roughhouse him, he turns and gives Ziva a millisecond look.

 

It says _were you worried?_ and _i was in over my head_ and _thank you for having my back regardless_. She lets her eyebrow quirk up in response and she knows that he understood. She can’t be mad at him, not right now. She will be frustrated and worried and angry with him later. Now, she is glad he is alive.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twenty five when she she loses Jenny, Tony, and her team, all at once. She loses Jenny first, and she _knew_ that something was wrong, but she didn’t get to the Director in time. She loses Tony quickly after. The plane ride back is tense and brittle; everything sparks an argument between them but he doesn’t pull away when she sees his eyes go glossy and grabs his hand. Ziva is not used to being the one to calm him down. He snaps at McGee and his voice is heavy with guilt and self-loathing, his eyes rimmed red. She isn’t sure whether to grieve with Tony and allow self-loathing to consume them both, or yell at him to snap out of it. She settles for standing close enough to touch his arm if he loses it, but not tugging him away; thanking McGee when he says the right thing, but not disputing Tony’s pained accusations. The whole team is stunned, lost, fractured. Abby is emotional, even beyond her normal range. Tony is volatile, out of control, and McGee doesn’t seem to be allowing himself to feel. Ziva feels lost in her own mind and emotions. It’s ironic that Gibbs is the most intact, considering his own personal connection to Jenny. She thinks of how she felt when Tony’s car was blown to pieces, only a year ago. How she had to decide she was okay, to keep going. She thinks she understands.

She has never seen Tony quite like this. His looks are nearly unreadable. Almost all of them say the same thing. _This is on me, isn’t it._ It’s a statement, not a question. She tries to tell him _it couldn’t be stopped_ , but he won’t look at her long enough for her to get it out. He’s sharp with Abby and Ziva wonders if she’s lost him a little more. It feels like she is cracking under the pressure of keeping everyone together. She soothes Abby and runs after Tony.

She finds him in autopsy, with a bottle of Ducky’s whiskey. He is wallowing and when Ziva tries to pull him out, he refuses to take her hand. He offers her a glass instead, and she takes the alcohol, because it’s the only thing he will do right now, and being with him as he does something stupid is better than watching him slip away entirely. They talk and _talk_ and she thinks maybe she’s _just_ caught him. Vance calls them to the archives, and they share a look. It is _is this almost over_ , and _are you going to be okay_ , and _did i get to you in time_. Maybe it’s too much for Tony, because suddenly they’re out of sync, and the Director is scrutinizing them and their stories don’t match, and _he won’t look at her_.

Vance calls them in after the memorial and it feels like they’re in trouble. He sends her home, and whatever they saw coming, it wasn’t this. They were supposed to stay together until they pulled through. Tony still won’t meet her eyes, but when Vance tells her she’s done at NCIS, he looks at her for the first time in days. She looks to Gibbs for direction, but his face is unreadable. Behind her, McGee is given his new orders, and by the time Vance gets to Tony, they know what’s happening. They are being punished. Ziva’s only thought is: _this is going to make Tony’s guilt complex worse_.

Their new assignments are effective immediately. They pack in relative silence; Gibbs gives them all nods, and then walks out of the bullpen, a man on a mission. McGee’s breathing is shallow, and halfway through packing up his desk, he stutters out that he needs to go talk to Abby, and he is gone. And then it is just Tony and Ziva, packing in deadly silence. Before; before Jeanne and Jenny and one too many hits, Tony would have either fought back or lightened the mood for them. She has only seen glimpses of this Tony, but this time he is too far in himself and Ziva wonders if he’ll even keep in touch. Answer her emails and texts, or just file them away as one more loss. They say their goodbyes to Abby and McGee and Ducky and Palmer, and then, they leave. They are parked next to each other like they have been almost every day for the last three years. She puts her box in her trunk, and goes to unlock her car, and Tony reaches out and grabs her wrist.

“Stay safe. Out in Israel.” Tony says. It’s the first thing he’s said to her all day. “I’d hate to have to go to another funeral.”

She gives him a small sad smile. “You too, Tony. You won’t have me to save your ass.”

“Save _my_ ass?” He asks, indignant, and for a second it works, and they are _them_ again. They both realize, at the same time, that they will be parting ways indefinitely. He sighs.

 

She drives him to the airfield the next morning. It is cold, and she doesn’t bring a sweatshirt, so he gives her one of his old NCIS training hoodies. It feels like a cliche from one of the old movies he watches, but she doesn’t comment. Not when they’re so fragile they’re barely even talking.

 

* * *

 

 

Ziva is twenty six when she decides to die. The decision doesn’t come quickly. It begins when she opens her apartment door and isn’t sure if she’s grateful or pissed that Tony is the one left standing. Michael lies on her apartment floor, blood spilling from his body, and suddenly Ziva has one more to add to her list of ‘ _people she cared about who have died_ ’. Except this one feels like her fault. Or Tony’s fault. She can’t decide. And then they go to Israel, and Ziva is on top of Tony with a gun to his chest and tears in her eyes. _Davids do not cry_. Tony just looks at her and his eyes say _pull the trigger,_ and _i never wanted to hurt you_ , and _i almost let him win for you_. She walks away before the tears fall and when her father tells her it is time for her to stay in Tel Aviv and remember who she trusts, she doesn’t disagree. Everything is pain, and she’s started to wonder if forgetting about the last four years won’t make it all go away. She tells Gibbs and waits for him to say _no_ , so she can give in and pretend to fight, but return home with them. But then Gibbs gives her a look, says _take care of yourself, Ziver_ , kisses her forehead and gets on the airplane. That’s when she decides she’s made the right decision. If Gibbs won’t fight for her, why is she fighting for him? She takes Michael’s spot on the Kidon Unit.

Her father sends her on a suicide mission, and she doesn’t feel a thing. She tells herself it is because she is focused, and she is working for the good of her country, and she believes it, sort of. She doesn’t let herself think about who Daniel Shalev’s eyes remind her of, and when Malachi shoots him in the back she doesn’t feel a thing.

They dock in Somalia, and she explodes and yells _“it is what it is_!” when Malachi tells her they should give up, and that it is a suicide mission. Her father said _at any cost_ and the Davids know what patriotism costs. The Reaper seems to be partial to the David spirit, and if he wants hers now, he can have it. She is _tired_ and _angry_ and _lonely_. She has been abandoned by everyone; her father, her mother, Gibbs, Tony, Ari, Tali. They are all _gone_ to some extent, and Ziva wants to _fight_. If Saleem wants a fight, he will get one. By _Gd_ , will he get one.

Her fury takes her all the way to the man himself, and then his men recover. He hears him yelling at them, asking how one _Israeli_ girl got so far on her own. One of his men calls her an _angel of death_ in arabic and she allows the ghost of a smirk flit across her face. With her record, both in her personal and professional life, maybe she is. And something in her, the part that’s been underfed, dehydrated, tortured, and is probably dealing with some sort of heat stroke, thinks _maybe, it’s for the best then_. They torture her for months, or maybe hours. It stops mattering. She talks to Tali to pass the time. Tali is angry that Ziva has given up like this, but _gd_ , giving up just tastes so sweet. Especially now. She’s been abandoned, tortured, and left to die. By both the good guys and the bad. She is too tired to fight now. Saleem calls for her, they put a bag over her head, they take her somewhere new, they yank the bag off, they torture her, they put the bag back on, they bring her back to her cell, etc. Every day is the same and the time blurs together.

And then one day they yank off the bag, and Anthony Dinozzo, Jr. is sitting across from her. His eyes widen incrementally and his eyebrows fly up, and she’s vaguely aware that a McGee-ish figure is lying on the ground to her left, but she can’t take her eyes off of him. His eyes are _screaming_ at her, and she can’t understand what they’re saying this time but that’s okay, because he just comes right out and says it: “just couldn’t live without you, I guess.” She feels something, for the first time since that plane took off from the Tel Aviv airfield. She doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though. She cannot let him die for her. Not another one. It’s her turn now, she’s _decided_ , and he cannot just get himself captured and mess up her brilliant plan to let Saleem kill her. _No one else needs to die for me_ , her eyes plead, but he is loopy and on some sort of truth serum, so when Saleem comes in and tells them that the plans have changed, and that they will die. She tells him to take McGee and Tony for leverage and then Tony starts _talking_.

And then? Saleem is dead. Saleem is dead and McGee and Tony are moving in tandem and they are attempting a,frankly _insane_ , escape plan. Some how, by Gd’s grace, or maybe by Gibbs’s, they make it out. And then they are on a flight home, and it is silent. McGee seems to be realizing that they almost _died_ , really and truly, Gibbs has been in the cockpit deep in discussion with Vance via satellite phone, and Tony won’t stop staring at her. It is her turn to not meet his eyes. She doesn’t want to find out what he’ll say if she does. She doesn’t want to risk what _she_ might say. She can’t even read her own thoughts. She doesn’t want him to know them before she does.

It is not until much later, after Abby squeezes her, (though not as tight as the goth likely wanted to), and after Ducky gives her a cup of tea and accompanies her to a quiet trauma center, and after Ziva has been released to Gibbs’s care that Tony comes to talk to her. She meets his eyes for the first time, and he says _‘it was all worth it’_ , and _‘you were worth it_ ’, and ‘ _we don’t have to talk about it_ ’. All he says out loud though, is: “Welcome home, Z”, and he doesn’t question it when those three words make her eyes well up with tears.

 

He just holds her against his chest, and lets her cry, and doesn’t tell her ‘ _Davids do not cry_ ”. He runs his hand up and down her back, and they stay like that, for a time. Gibbs doesn’t comment.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twenty seven when she becomes a US Citizen. It has been a long, at times arduous, process, but she remembers with a smile the pop-quizzes that Tony and Tim would throw at her during late nights at work, and she cannot help but be overwhelmed with gratitude when she thinks of the hours and hours that Gibbs would let her study out loud at him, never once telling her to be quiet. And it is all that is left before she is _officially_ officially an agent. She has already been a probationary agent for close to a year, but she can’t help but worry that something will come up and it will all be ripped away. Now that she is a citizen, though, it feels like it’s her right. It would be harder to take away.

Tony and Gibbs miss the ceremony and Ziva pretends not to care. She can feel Abby and McGee looking at her with pity in their eyes, so she pastes on her most convincing smile and tells them that celebratory drinks are on her. She’s not sure if she fools them, but mercifully, they drop it. They head to the bar and Ziva tries not to remember that it’s the same bar that they were at when Tony was fake-but-not-really dating Jeanne and he almost died for it. She also tries not to feel angry with the pair of them for not coming to her ceremony. She’s being irrational and she knows it. Surely, they have their reasons, and Ziva’s not a child. She doesn’t need her hand held at every big event. Still, the mint in her mojito just tastes a little bit bitter.

Eventually the night grows late and the group disperses, tipsy and giggling. Even Ziva has lightened up, allowed Ducky and Abby to coerce her into drinking more and stronger liquors than the woman usually would. She lives close to the bar, so she pulls on her blue peacoat and scarf and walks home, waving to Abby as her cab pulls away. The cool night air sobers Ziva up a little bit, but leaves her just drunk enough to feel warm and fuzzy still. He is waiting with flowers on her stoop when she walks up.

“You’re a little late, Tony,” is all Ziva says. He heaves a sigh and sheepishly offers her the flowers, and she takes them, and his hand, and pulls him off the ground so that she can walk where he was sitting and unlock her door.

“Director sent me off. It wasn’t supposed to take as long as it did. I wanted to be there, Z,” he follows her into her apartment without asking and his voice is earnest, though quiet. She barely needs to look at him to feel the guilt rolling off of him.

“Was Gibbs with you, then?” Ziva asks, walking into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers. They are pale pink roses, Ziva’s favorite, and she isn’t sure why Tony knows what her favorite flower is. Behind her, Tony stops following, and she looks back in surprise. He looks like she has sucker-punched him in the gut.

“Gibbs wasn’t there either?” He asks, and Ziva shakes her head, resuming her walk to the kitchen. He seems more upset about this fact than he was about missing it himself. “Shit, Ziva, I’m sorry. The rest of them showed up, right?”

“Yes, Tony,” she laughs, and the tightness in her chest eases just a bit. “I was not alone. But thank you for the flowers.”

“Congratulations, Miss America,” he teases, making her laugh more. “Can’t kick you out now.”

“No,” she agrees, smiling genuinely. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” he shrugs.

“Good.”

 

Gibbs gives her a knife engraved with the official date of citizenship the next morning, and he simply says “ _sorry Ziver_.” and the fact that he broke one of his rules for her nearly has her tearing up. She has forgotten what it is like to have people who care about you before the job and not vice-versa. She is truly content.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twenty eight when Mike Franks dies and it feels like a piece of herself goes with him.

By all accounts, she liked Franks, but Ziva never realized quite what he symbolized, to her, at least. As a teenager, she assumed the end of her life would come during a mission. The retirement rate in Mossad wasn’t very high. Those who lived long enough to retire never _truly_ got out of the business. But Mike had retired. He had a house on the beach, and he lived with his granddaughter. And some might argue that Franks wasn’t out of the game himself, but Ziva thought that perhaps there was a difference between helping family and being caught in the game. Mike Franks gave Ziva hope for her future.

Except now he’s lying in autopsy with multiple stab wounds and there’s yet _another_ killer to kill. When Ziva chose to follow her father’s path, she did it to make the world a better place, and sure, she was a naive teenager, but she’d hoped she could make even a _little_ bit of a difference by now. Every day, a new monster seemed to pop up.

 

She breaks down in the elevator, and Tony pulls her close. She hasn’t let herself break down on him like this since Somalia, but she allows herself this.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is twenty nine when her _home_ is attacked and the earth moves. Tony tells her to go, and she snaps back “ _not without you_ ” and she isn’t sure when they stopped having conversations silently and started just saying things out loud. She likes it. Thank gd, because they are stuck in the elevator together for what seems like an eternity, and talking is all they have to do. They are only bumped and bruised, with shallow cuts, and Ziva counts her blessings. They talk and talk and _talk_ in thinly veiled allegory and painful truths, and it feels like progress. It feels like the Tony she lost the year Jenny died has returned to her.

“This is nice,” he says when the conversation has lulled somewhat and they have given up on getting themselves out of the box. They are sitting side by side against the elevator wall, and despite the fact that it is a million degrees, they are touching. Ziva gives him an incredulous look and he amends his statement. “Not the bomb and the trapped-in-an-elevator bit maybe, but I feel like I haven’t talked to you like this in forever.”

“Years,” Ziva agrees softly. She doesn’t tell him that it has been exactly four years, and that she knows the exact moment they fell apart. They are admitting hushed truths in the elevator, but it’s silly and Ziva doesn’t want Tony to know how much it hurt her, when they fell apart. So instead she says: “I guess that’s not a bad golden lining.”

“Silver.”

“Well I thought it came from the idea that the sun is shining behind rain clouds. The sun is golden,” Ziva frowns. Tony opens his mouth, and then closes it again. Ziva shoots him a triumphant look and he shakes his head.

“The sun is golden but the lining is silver, okay? It’s in the playbook.”

“What playbook?”

“The _Silver-Linings Playbook_ , Zeevah. JLaw? Bradley Cooper? Any of this ring a bell? It’s coming out in like two months.”

“What, a movie?”

“Ahh at last we are on the same page.”

“Of the playbook?” She says it just to irk him, and it works. She has heard the advertisements for the new movie. She knows nothing of what it’s about, but it doesn’t matter. He shoots her a glare and she knows he knows what she’s doing. She smirks, and then sighs. She can joke with Tony all that she likes, but she is worried, for McGee, for Gibbs, for Abby, for Director Vance. All of them are a part of her family and the thought of something happening to any of them makes her ache.

“Hey,” Tony nudges her, careful not to jostle her tender side. “They’re fine. We’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” Ziva asks, not questioning that he knew what she was thinking. They have always been able to read each other well. A seven year partnership is not a small feat.

“‘Cause we’re okay,” he shrugs, flashing her a charming smile. “And as long as _we’re_ okay? We’ll get through it. Vance, as much as I hate to admit it, is a clever bastard. Gibbs is tough. And I give him hell, but so is McGee.”

For a moment, a look of regret flashes across Tony’s face, and she nudges him in return. “He is tough _because_ you give him hell, Tony. He knows why you do it.”

“Yeah,” Tony gave her a grateful look. “And Abby, well, she’s the smartest out of any of us, and Gibbs would never let anything happen to her. They’re okay.”

“I know I will regret this later,” Ziva chuckles, “but I am glad that I am stuck in here with you.”

“Me too, Z,” Tony smiles, and it is soft. The elevator, like the men’s restroom, has always been a liminal space for the two of them, but now they are quite literally trapped here, in time and space. It has taken them years of growth and pain, but they are ready, now, to be in this space and sit with each other for hours on end.

_The universe is funny_ , Ziva thinks. _But maybe it knows what it’s doing_.

 

Hours later, when Abby finds them, she makes a passing comment about expecting them to be ready to murder each other. Ziva gives her partner a look. It says _well look at that_ , and _how far we’ve come,_ and _i’m glad it was you_. Ziva climbs out of the elevator and heads straight for the shower.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is thirty when the last of her childhood is taken from her. Her father shows up, asking for second chances, and before Ziva is done giving him a hard time, he is gone again. _For good_. As she sobs and cradles his body to her, all Ziva can think is _I would have forgiven you, eventually_. She can only hope he knew that. She falls apart, and it feels as though the world is upside down. She goes to synagogue and reflects that maybe she’s in the bargaining stage of her grief. _Show me a sign_ , she pleads. And then Tony is there and Ziva feels no surprise at his appearance. Her eyes flicker up towards the ceiling in acknowledgement of the humor of the situation, and then it is back to pain and revenge. Tony holds her hand when she wakes up thrashing, and he doesn’t say a word when she won’t let go. The bed is too small for both of them, but somehow, they manage to fit. She wakes up before him and slips into the kitchen to make breakfast. Neither of them say anything about it.

She can feel Tony and how hard he is trying to be there for her. She wants to turn around and say _‘sorry I’ve reverted to a shell of revenge and solitude right when we were finally figuring_ us _out’_ but she can’t find the right words. Instead, she tries not to snap as him as often as she wants to and she takes the food he keeps buying her at lunchtimes. He drops her at the airport, and tells her _at lo levad_ and her eyes burn. She cries on the plane.

She gets devoured by her need for revenge and somewhere in the back of her mind she is reminded that _this_ is why she left that part of her behind. After Ari’s death, sure, but she had thought she’d left this part of her to die in the Somali heat, and yet here she is in a safe-house in Berlin. Tony is still hurt that she left him out of her plans and she can feel it. She lies next to him on the bed and murmurs an apology. He gives her a small smile, and she thinks they’ll be okay. He sways with her on the dance floor and if she just closes her eyes for an instant, her father’s words come floating back. _One day, you will dance with a man who deserves your love_. She thinks of the way Tony has chased her across the globe, twice now. She thinks maybe, he does. She’s seconds away from telling him when Ilan Bodnar crashes into them. She clutches his hand and prays that he is alright.

And then she hurts him. Parsons is the one who lets it slip, but she is the one who hurt him. He defends her anyways. She starts to think that maybe _she_ doesn’t deserve _him_. But he’s there for her anyways, at the end of it all. They kiss behind a cabin in the woods, and it’s not their first but it feels like something. She apologizes for hurting him and tells him she cares and he looks at her with eyes that say _‘friendship? really?’_ and she looks at him and pleads _‘not now, Tony.’_ She cannot unravel this web of protection they have spun over the last seven years. Not while she is losing the only father she has left. They turn their badges in, and it feels like the end of something, and he grabs her hand in the parking lot, before she can let the terror consume her.

She takes the vast amounts of free time she now has and books a spontaneous trip to Israel. She becomes a ghost, wandering through the life she has lead. It is healing; reaffirming. She tries to videochat Tony from the Haifa bus terminal but he doesn’t pick up. She boards the bus and IMs him instead. They are bold, now that rule twelve no longer stands in their way. He asks if she wants company, and she says yes before she can doubt herself. The idea of having him on this journey of self discovery is endlessly appealing, and he seems eager to join her, so she says yes. And he tells her to _count to a million_ , and she cannot help but smile.

And then…they are derailed. And Deena Bashan stitches her up and pierces her with new wounds in the same visit and suddenly it feels like the bottom of Ziva’s world has fallen away. All she ever wanted to do was make the world better. When had she become the very monster she was fighting against? She haunts her history with a vengeance, and every stop makes her chest feel a little bit tighter.

Tony catches up to her in Be’er Sheva. She has been at the beginning of her life for less than an hour before he barrels into the house, yelling her name. She almost shoots him out of annoyance. They yell at each other for a solid three minutes, and then he wraps her in a hug and murmurs _“jesus Z, you gave me multiple heartattacks.”,_ and then his phone won’t stop beeping with calls from McGee and Ziva warns Tony that if he tells them where she is, she’ll murder him and bury his body amongst the olive trees.

And then it is three days of quiet and rebuilding and bliss and compromise. They whisper promises under the trees and Ziva kisses him with the abandon of a woman who has nothing left to lose. He begs, cajoles, bargains - but Ziva won’t be moved. She cannot return to American soil until she has purged the blood from her hands, and right now they are _dripping_ red. He offers to stay, but Ziva can see it’s not what he wants. He doesn’t deny it when she points it out.

 

They kiss goodbye at the airport; it is teary and desperate. Ziva stands there for half an hour and regrets every decision she’s ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part three will be up soon! in the meantime please comment and leave kudos <3


	3. part iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ziva's life post-ncis. the rebuilding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally would love to believe that Ziva is already with Tony and Tali, and the way that recent episode dealt with Tony's absence made it seem like maybe she was!! but current canon is leading us to believe that she's still doing her thing, and I tried to keep this canon compliant. I will eventually write the alternate though.
> 
> enjoy!

Ziva is thirty one when her life finds new meaning. Talia Eliana Dinozzo-David is born, healthy and happy, and Ziva thinks that if her father were here, he’d be crying just as hard as she is. She is named, in Jewish tradition, for those Ziva has lost, but the yearning that Ziva has felt since each loss lessens slightly when she holds her baby girl. _Talia bat David_ , as she is presented in her _bri’t bat_ at the synagogue, has her mother’s curls and her father’s honey locks; her mother’s smile but her father’s charming eyes. Ziva is all that Tali has, and Tali is all that Ziva has, and before she recites the traditional prayer, she makes a vow, to the sister she lost and the daughter she holds, that she will keep this Tali safe, at any cost. 

She has wracked herself for nine months, trying to get the courage to pick up the phone and tell Tony. It pains her to go this long without hearing him say something utterly stupid to make her laugh. She _misses_ him, misses the very being of him. But one selfless part of her says he will give up his life, and livelihood, for the little girl in her arms. And she knows what being an agent means to him. Another, selfish, part whispers that Tali is safer when no one knows she exists. She is Ziva’s alone, inconsequential to the hagglers in the market who only care what Ziva can pay, not about the baby swaddled to her chest. Orli, a woman who has made every effort to redeem herself to Ziva, knows. Ziva knows. That is enough, for now. _Soon_ , she convinces herself. Soon she will tell him. When she can walk around a city without feeling eyes on her back. When stepping out of the comfort of the farmhouse doesn’t make her heartbeat so quick, doesn’t have her laying a protective hand on the bundle against her chest. Then, she will tell him.

 

Ziva waits and waits for that day. She knows he will come. She never makes the call.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is thirty three when her tender, delicate peace is yanked away from her. She has five minutes warning; Orli calls and tells her that there are sudden interests in the farmhouse and what lies within it. Files and information that Ziva is supposed to have. Some want it. Someone else wants it gone. Orli tells her to run, voice more urgent that Ziva has ever heard out of her before. The phone disconnects, and Ziva can hear the distant rumble. Company.

She is a mother and an agent torn in two. She knows that she will be a target now. She has, for the last two years, successfully lived a life under the radar. She chose the farmhouse because it was where she grew. It was the house Eli used to hide his own growing family, and she hoped, by some grace, it would keep her and Tali safe as well. But the same people that have forgotten the Mossad director and his lineage of weapons and traitors will remember now, that Ziva _knows_ things. And she has only come to know more in the hours she has spent in her father’s study. Her photographic memory, long untested, enjoyed the challenge. But Ziva knows better than to think that information has no cost, and as long as she lives, as long as the people her father had evidence on live, she will never be free. She has one minute to plan, make a decision. _The right choice is hard for a reason, Ziva_ , a voice that sounds like her father whispers in her ear. _Rule Forty Five_ , another father adds.

So Ziva plans. Twenty seconds to douse Tali’s room in as much water as she can manage. Her room is in the farthest corner of the farmhouse, but Ziva won’t take any chance she doesn’t have to, as far as her child is involved. Twenty seconds to grab the emergency go-bag, and stuff the things she needs to inside. _Khelev_ , Tali’s beloved stuffed dog, the scarf she is wearing, and the picture of Tony and Ziva in Paris that sits on Tali’s bedside table. Ten seconds to grab a nearby crayon and scratch the lyrics to the ABBA song that Tony would _not_ stop singing on their quick trip, years ago. _Paris restaurants, Our last summer…_ She hopes he can figure it out from there. Ten seconds to grab the bag, and her daughter, and disappear into the trees that shelter the little farm house.

She barely makes it out before the boom. Smoke billows out of Ziva’s beloved childhood home, and she desperately tries to keep Tali quiet. Ziva presses urgent kisses to the toddler’s forehead, nose, lips, and forehead again, tears streaming down her face. On the other side of the burning wreck, engines roar and then fade, telling Ziva that whoever it was has fled. And she holds her daughter for three minutes and seventeen seconds, soaking in as much time as she can, with the fussy girl tight against her chest. But in the distance, Ziva hears sirens, and she knows that if she stays any longer, she’ll be discovered.

She plants one last kiss against her daughter’s honey curls, and slips back into the nursery. It is smokey, but not unbearable, thanks to Ziva’s quick preparations, and it is untouched by the fire. Ziva places Tali and the bag inside the crib that Tali is starting to outgrow, clenches her jaw, and disappears once more into the trees. Silent sobs wrack her as her daughter _shrieks_. Ziva has never left Tali, not even for an evening, and the chaos of smoke, and noise, and sirens without her mother distresses Tali, but Ziva holds herself back. She _has_ to keep her daughter safe. She vowed at any cost, and it physically hurts her to watch her daughter wail without reprieve, but Tali is safer with Tony to protect her. And being dead, as Gibbs once pointed out years and years ago, makes for a good cover.

Orli is there, as Ziva had hoped she would be. The firemen bring Tali out before ever searching for anyone else, and for that, Ziva is grateful. They hand the bag and the girl to Orli, and Ziva waits until she hears them tell her that they found no one else in the fire. Orli pauses, then says: “she must be ash, then.” The firemen don’t dispute it. They are not there to investigate, and if the director of Mossad reports one casualty, that is the story they will swear by. Before she leaves, Orli scans the trees around the smoldering farmhouse, and nods, once. Her daughter still cries, and Ziva does too. But Tali is safe now, and she has a mission to do. If she is to keep her daughter safe from old family enemies - if she is to _ever_ be with her child again, Ziva knows she has to do this.

 

She grabs her own go-bag from where it is hidden in a cache in the trees, and walks away from her child.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is thirty six when Eleanor Bishop discovers her secret.

She has missed years of her child’s life, has become a ghost obsessed with righting ancient wrongs. she has spent her last three years solving the cases her father never could, and eliminating those threats. she allows herself no softness, no personal attachments, save for a young girl Ziva’s father had come to trust in the last years of his life. Sofia is in her early twenties, a good girl and an even better spy, and to her Ziva entrusts the task of keeping an eye on her child. It’s not easy; Tony refuses to give up the search for Ziva David, and he trails her all across the globe, try as Ziva might to shake him. Ziva allows herself three soft things: she gets updates from the young woman, keeps a photo of her daughter in her wallet, and behind it, keeps a photo of her and Tony, from years ago.

In it, she is wearing a faded NCIS training sweatshirt and he has his arm around her. They are mid-laugh, gazing at each other as they shared some inside joke. It’s from an impromptu beach day that Abby had begged the team to go on. In the end, it had just been the two of them and Abby and McGee. It was in the late winter, and so the four of them had spent the day bundled up in sweatshirts, sitting on the sand, laughing and teasing each other. Abby had insisted that they leave behind “any bad juju”, which, Tony explained, was basically bad energy. Despite the chilly weather, it had been rather pleasant in the sun, and the beach had a very relaxing effect. Abby had brought her polaroid. She’d given Ziva that particular picture after her father died. Now, Ziva carries it with her.

She is wrapping up a mission in Luxembourg when her phone beeps with a message. “ _TnT on their way back to la ville d’amour. big t got a msg on his voicemail from a certain agency mentioning u. looked into it - they reopened a case with ur name tied to it. thot u shld know. “_

The message has a file attached to it. Ziva clicks on it and finds the NCIS file for Morgan Burke. Ziva isn’t sure how Sofia got it, but she’s grateful. This is a wrong that Ziva most definitely wants to right, and if NCIS has new leads, there’s a chance this could be settled. She begins to arrange transport to the States, and puts some feelers out to informants who might be close enough to NCIS to loop her in, but not so close that they would give her away. They all report back the same thing: Morgan’s daughter escaped captivity, and had been found in NCIS jurisdiction. The MCRT had taken up the case with a vengeance, but one agent in particular, Agent Eleanor Bishop, was becoming more and more invested in the case - to the point where she had been overheard arguing back at Gibbs. From all the things Ziva had heard about her replacement, she was a good woman and a great agent. If anyone would take up this mantle again, after Ziva’s four years of fruitless searching, she thinks that perhaps Agent Bishop is the right woman for the job.

By the time Ziva arrives in Virginia, they have discovered her office. She had left it as it stood, always intending to come back to it, back when she had first left, that summer when they resigned. She finds the journal she is looking for in Gibbs’s house, unlocked as always, and she sneaks in, takes the page, and leaves. She debates leaving something, _anything_ , for Gibbs, but her mission is not over yet. She patches into their radio frequency and waits until she hears the confirmation of ‘ _suspect apprehended_ ’ before she breathes. They reroute him to a hospital - heart attack on the way - which makes it easier for Ziva. It is easier to sneak into a hospital than a holding cell.

He asks who the hell she is, and Ziva thinks of the last three years she has lost; the family she has sacrificed, the pain she has survived. She too, was once held captive by a monster just like this one. How many times had she wished Saleem had lived, solely so that she could make him understand the pain she felt? She tells him she will haunt his dreams and reads Morgan’s mother’s letter in a steely voice. He has a shadow of fear on his face when he is done, and Ziva allows herself to feel the satisfaction of a job finished. It is time for her to go back to being a ghost, floating around the world and quietly fixing the things her father wanted to fix for his children and grandchildren. She leaves the letter at his bedside and makes one last stop.

Her office is not as she left it. The futon is flipped up, her weapons are gone, some of the notebooks are scattered on the desk, the cabinets are flung open. She tidies the space that served her so well, writes her note, and leaves the scarf on top of it. With her memory, Ziva knows just how she left the office, but she has a feeling that Eleanor will be the one to discover her letter, and she thinks that moving just the scarf and the coat will lead the woman to the note. She waits until the agent pulls up to the office before turning to leave.

 

She returns to her life in solitude, focuses on her mission and works to see it through. She thinks of Morgan Burke, and her daughter, and it makes her throat tight. She would give almost anything to give her daughter a hug right now.

 

* * *

 

Ziva is thirty seven when she is at last reunited with her child. It has been nearly five years, but she has at last crossed off every name on her mental list of family grudges. She is not foolish enough to think that her child will never be in danger, but now, perhaps, she will not have to worry more than other children as she grows. Ziva has sacrificed five years for that, but she would sacrifice her whole life to keep her daughter safe. Sofia gives her a _mazal tov_ and a location: Lavender farms, in Provence, France. She also gives Ziva a photo of Tali, curls up in pigtails, running through the grass, Tony just behind her. Tali has grown so much in the years Ziva has missed. She’s gotten to see rare photos that Sofia would send her, but this is by far the best quality photo, and Ziva studies it, now that she no longer has a case or mission to study for.

Her daughter is six years old now, all of a girl, and Ziva’s heart aches looking at the photo. Tony looked so carefree. He, surely, hated her for keeping such a secret and leaving him to pick up the pieces when she disappeared. Chances are, Tali would no longer recognize her. Certainly, if she did recognize Ziva, she wouldn’t know her. For a moment, Ziva considers disappearing completely. Starting a new life, a new identity. Letting Tony raise Tali without the trauma of having a mother, who by all appearances abandoned you, just reappear. But she thinks of her mother, her father, her brother, her sister. All the love she’s lost. Wouldn’t she give anything to speak to them again? Trauma or not? Besides, a selfish part of her refuses to be separated from her child any longer. She books a flight to Provence and keeps the photo in her pocket.

She finds them in a complex of villas, scattered through a lavender farm. Tali is running through the lavender fields, an impish grin on her face. Tony’s back is to her as he leans on a wooden fence, watching his daughter tire herself out.

“Don’t step on a bee, Tali,” he calls as Ziva gets in hearing range. The blur of loose denim and honey brown curls barely slows. “T, it’ll hurt you, _and_ you’re allergic. I’m serious. That’ll put an end to this fun real fast, kiddo.”

Tali slows, panting, to listen to her father, and as she does, her eyes meet Ziva’s. For a moment, the girl’s smile drops, and then she says “ _IMMA_ ”, and barrels towards Ziva at top speed. Ziva barely has time to drop to a crouch and catch the little girl in a hug before she makes impact. Ziva’s sure there are tears streaming down her face.

Tony’s confusion is palpable, and he just barks “ _Tali, no!”_ , but neither woman pays him any attention. He sighs and walks over, saying “I’m so sorry, she…” but the words died on his lips as Ziva looks up, laughing slightly through the tears.

“You don’t recognize me, Dinozzo?”

“Ziva, I-“ he can’t seem to find any other words after that. He is staring at her like she might disappear at any moment. Ziva knows how he feels. She scoops the girl, still clinging to her neck, up as she stands to face him.

“I am so sorry, Tony,” she breathes before he can recover. “I am, I never meant to do it alone, or leave you to go through it alone. I always meant for us to do it together, but-“ it’s her turn to search for words. Tony shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice rough. “We’re together now, it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure the rest of it out later.”

She nods, tears flowing once more, and Tony steps forward, pulling both of his girls into a hug. They’re all crying now, though presumably, Tali isn’t _quite_ sure why, but Tony is right. None of it matters now, not really. There will be hours of talking, until both of their voices are nearly gone. There will be fighting and hurting, but also healing and growth. There will be time to visit their family, and maybe even settle down in suburbia, in a house near Gibbs, but not too far from McGee. They will have time to grow their family. There will be time to mend the wounds that have grown over the last fourteen years of Ziva and Tony’s journey. Tony tips her chin up to give her a kiss, and Ziva knows that they will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments!! let me know what you liked, and even what you didn't. I have a few other fics in progress as well. I can be found on tumblr [here](https://www.itskatebishops.tumblr.com) and on twitter [here](https://www.twitter.com/itsskyesmith)!


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